Shacking Up
by Swiss Army Knife
Summary: By order of the hokage, Kakashi and Iruka are forced to live together for a month...and masquerade as fishermen.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story was written for a livejournal exchange. The request was for Kakashi and Iruka to live together and be domestic for a month. Since there was no stipulation about _where_ they had to indwell, I decided to send them on a mission during the non-canonical period the fillers hint about, when Kakashi was Iruka's captain.

**Shacking Up**

**by Swiss**

* * *

**Part One**

* * *

It was late when Iruka woke up, sprawled over the low table in his apartment. The heat on his face made him blink drowsily as he stretched, wiping the residual stickiness off his face with a grunt of irritation. An oiling cloth was still bunched in his fist, and he looked ruefully at the spot where the heater still buzzed beneath the draped comforter. The weather had turned colder and yesterday was the first time he'd used it this season.

'_I should have known I would fall asleep,'_ he thought as he rocked his neck back and forth, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness. _'True, I don't have a mission, but…'_

It was at that moment that Iruka's sleepy mind caught up with the angle of the light on the floor, and then he was choking back curses as he scrambled for a fresh uniform, struggled into his vest and hit the door at a run. The cutting breeze almost had him ducking back inside for a scarf, but he was already running late and one simply did not keep a man like Morino Ibiki waiting.

'_Blasted kotatsu,'_ he though as he jammed the key into the lock, simultaneously releasing chakra to snap his traps into place.

Being so near the civilian sector, he had to be especially careful with his security; too much force and an overeager home invader might end up maimed or dead. The extra moment required to double check was all that kept him from running bodily into his landlady when he jerked around to leave.

"Whoa, boy!" She stopped him with a hand that was weathered with age but still quite firm against his arm. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I'm late," Iruka explained, smiling even as he tried to angle around her.

"Have you looked at yourself this morning?" she asked, clucking with disapproval. "Your hair is sticking out in all directions and your face it still red on one side."

Sheepishly, Iruka pulled down his tail, which was indeed hanging in a lopsided, untidy mess, and began to retie it. "I didn't end up in bed last night," he admitted. "Fell asleep."

The elderly woman watched his hurried adjustments with a keen but benevolent eye. "Did you eat breakfast?" she asked.

"I –" Iruka began, but a pair of _onigiri_ were already being pressed into his hands, along with a fistful of rice crackers. He smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, Ooya-san**."**

The landlady sniffed. "These things wouldn't happen if you had someone looking after you, Iruka."

Nodding to be agreeable, Iruka finally pulled himself away and merged onto the roofs where he could dash above the burgeoning market crowd. _Someone looking after you_; the words came back as Iruka shoved one of the rice crackers into his mouth, but he pushed it aside with a snort. This morning's blunder notwithstanding, he had been looking after himself for six years.

And that wasn't about to change.

* * *

Kakashi wasn't in the best of moods. He had only returned to the village yesterday, and when he'd dropped off an injured teammate at the hospital – a teammate who should never have been on a mission so high above her caliber – he had been forced to stay overnight when a pushy medic caught sight of a minor injury and insisted on monitoring him.

The fact that there _had_ been some kind of latent toxin in his bloodstream had not improved his temper. Even now, as he maneuvered through the crowd with a bag full of groceries tucked against his shoulder, his head was still throbbing behind his eye with every squint into the sun.

All he wanted was to go home to his empty, dusty apartment, to water Mr. Ukki, feed his dogs, and then finally have some time alone.

This was so strongly on his mind that, as he paused to press surreptitiously at his temple, he didn't noticed the tumultuous chakra heading toward him until a body emerged from a side street and slammed into him so forcefully that it jarred his grip and sent his food flying into the street.

On the ground, eggplant miso seeped out of an overturned container. A carton of dry dog food was ripped at the corner. Kakashi looked at it through a deceptively lazy eye, torn brown bag still in hand.

"Ah, I'm sorry about that," a quiet voice said. The person who had knocked into him wore the dark navy blue uniform of a chuunin. An expression of chagrin dominated his face, which was a forgettable portrait of brown on brown, eyes and hair.

Kakashi took the measure of him out of instinct; his eye flicked over the vest, which was packed too lightly for anything but inner-village wear. He was also missing the kunai pouch that should have been strapped to his leg, and his neck was red from being bared to the wind. '_Sloppy_,' Kakashi though contemptuously.

The flustered chuunin repeated, "I really do apologize. It's been one of those days. I wasn't paying attention."

'_Clearly_,' Kakashi wanted to say, but didn't. His headache had begun to throb mercilessly in time with his pulse, and his wrapped arm was stinging where this incompetent had thrown his weight against it. All his thoughts, which had been focused on food and home and rest, were beginning to drain down the tracks of the road along with his overturned soup.

The other shinobi lifted the container with a frown. "This is ruined," he commented, unaware of the way Kakashi's fingers had begun to clinch around his useless paper bag. After a moment, however, the young man's face cleared and he dared to smile, offering, "I could buy you lunch to replace it, if you'd like. _Ichiraku_ has an excellent miso ramen."

It might just have been the single most unwelcome invitation ever issued.

"Perhaps your time would be better spent practicing reflex maneuvers," Kakashi said coldly, and had the sour satisfaction of seeing the chuunin's good-spirited expression fade under a streak of red. It made an odd scar across his face stand out palely, almost as palely as the lips he compressed together.

"I didn't mean to run into you. I told you I would pay to replace the groceries," he said. The overtures of friendliness had completely withered under the chill of Kakashi's insulting refusal. He reached to recover the torn bag of dog food, but Kakashi waved him off.

"I'd prefer it if you just leave before you cause a bigger mess. I'm tired of cleaning up after people playing at being a ninja."

The fierceness of the flush redoubled on the chuunin's face, his expression sealing off completely even as his hands fisted. Kakashi didn't give him time to muster up the audacity to do something stupid, however. Instead, he scooped up what remained of his groceries and continued on his way without so much as looking back.

* * *

Kakashi's time of relaxation was not meant to be. He had barely stepped into his apartment and toed off his sandals before a messenger was at his door, asking him to meet with the Hokage at his earliest convenience. Sitting aside the ruined remains of his lunch, the weary jounin took only a moment to lean broodingly against the counter before readjusting his mask and heading for the spiraling central Tower.

By the time he reached the office, he was openly scowling, an expression which caused an arched, bushy eyebrow to raise. "Kakashi," the Sandaime greeted, setting aside his stylus. "I'm aware that you just returned to the village. I also received a report from the hospital –"

"I'm fine." Kakashi answered the unspoken question, straightening his shoulders and attempting to make his face expressionless so that it would seem like less of a lie.

"I'm glad to hear that," his Hokage said, and gestured to the open scroll on his desk. "I have something rather delicate and time sensitive here and I need my most dependable shinobi handling it."

Kakashi was gratified by the compliment, though he kept it to himself. It was almost enough to lift his lingering frustration. "A solo mission?" he wondered, just a touch hopefully.

The old man chuckled, obviously picking up on his tone. "No, Kakashi. I'm sorry. It's an infiltration mission with some unique qualifications. I've selected a partner for you that I expect will give you a much greater chance of success."

The idea of a teammate made Kakashi irritated again, but he resolutely pushed the feeling down. "Who is it?"

"He should be here momentarily. I doubt you've met, at least not professionally." A timely knock at the heavy doors interrupted, and the Hokage said, "Ah, here he is. Come!"

Kakashi kept his expression carefully neutral as he turned to meet his partner…and then he froze. For there before him was a familiar portrait of brown on brown. It was, in fact, the very same chuunin who had collided with him on the street that morning.

"Kakashi," the Sandaime introduced them, cordially sweeping his hand toward the newcomer. "This is Umino Iruka. I've selected him to be the second shinobi in your two-man team."

Iruka, for his part, looked just as surprised to see Kakashi. His expression, which had been a little tentative as he slipped through the door, shut up like a portal. "Sandaime," he said formally, all while steadfastly ignoring the other man in the room.

One didn't become Hokage by ignoring undercurrents, and the little zings that Kakashi and Iruka were bouncing off of one another could not have been mistaken as even ambiguously friendly. Eying the two identically hostile postures, the Hokage asked, "Iruka, have you met Hatake Kakashi?"

The question forced the chuunin to recognize the jounin or be judged insubordinate. Ducking his head minutely, he acknowledged, "Hatake-san."

His tone was so featureless and unimpressed that Kakashi was provoked to respond in kind: "My subordinates call me Taicho."

Iruka's response was calm. "How unfortunate for them."

A growl passed Kakashi's lips before he had a chance to call it back, but the Sandaime neatly superseded any further devolution by beginning to speak. "Now that you're both here, I'll explain your assignment." He waited until he had their full attention. "As you know, our financial and political stability as a shinobi village depends on an intricate balance of power between the _kage_ and the _daimyo_."

It was, in fact, something that every shinobi child knew. From the time the Hidden Villages were founded, there had always been a connection to the _daimyo_. The powerful territorial lords put food on a ninja's table; without them, Konoha would have neither purpose nor income.

"Without the _daimyo_, we could not survive, but to become mere vassals as some in history have done..." The Sandaime trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "Because of how important this balance is, there are sometimes actions taken by an individual which I am forced to ignore. In contrast, there are others that I cannot afford to dismiss."

He gestured the two men forward to where a map had been spread over his desk and pointed out an outlined section on the southern coast.

"These are the landholdings of Lord Ohidai. His manor and the village that supports it are on a bay that shelters a lucrative fishing trade. Word has it that Ohidai may be parlaying with Mist. His loyalties have always been perilously close to the edge, and we cannot allow our enemies to have such a powerful ally. So you are tasked with infiltrating this village and discovering whether dealings of any kind are taking place, as well as determining how deeply the common people there are implicated. This will be important when and if we decide to become involved."

Kakashi felt conflicted, even after their mission parameters had been highlighted. He looked at Iruka and was forcefully reminded of his last disastrous assignment, which had been all but sabotaged by an unqualified colleague. "Sir," he addressed his Hokage. "Respectfully, I would prefer to have a more experienced operative paired with me on this mission."

The Sandaime gestured toward the silently bristling chuunin. "Kakashi, while I note your concerns, you should know that Iruka has training in undertaking this kind of infiltration. Moreover, he has several skill subsets which will be necessary for your cover."

Instinct told Kakashi to be wary. "Our cover?"

The old man's sudden grin made all the wrinkles in his face stand out. "Ah, yes," he said, almost whimsically. "You will be posing as fishermen."

A stunned silence followed, broken only when Iruka muttered, "You're joking." He was blinking in a slow, hesitant way, as though he did not what to believe what had been said.

Their leader disillusioned him. "It isn't a joke, Iruka. You two will enter the village and pretend to settle in for the winter fishing season. A house has already been acquired for you, as well as some basic supplies and a small, seaworthy boat."

"A boat," Kakashi repeated numbly.

Seeing their twin expressions of dismay, the Sandaime's own became firm. "I don't expect you to put your personalities aside. If you did so, you wouldn't be suitable for this mission. That being said, I'm placing my faith in your ability to establish and maintain your cover for the duration of this mission. In no way should any personal prejudices jeopardize this," he said, and there was a warning in his voice. "Am I understood?"

Both men straightened like the shinobi they were. "Yes, Hokage."

* * *

Before he left, Kakashi made one final attempt to talk the Hokage into giving him a more capable partner. Unfortunately, it was a point on which the older man would not budge.

"_Kakashi," he had said with a sigh. "The fact of the matter is that__, however talented you are,__ Iruka has more social skills in his little finger than you do with all your one thousand jutsu. You'll need him to complete this mission."_

Kakashi did not have nearly so much confidence, but when Iruka finally broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them during their first few days of travel, asking – "Is it really going to be like this for the entire mission?" – Kakashi had the sense to feel slightly ashamed. A month was a long time to hold a grudge about spilt miso, and even if they didn't get along, there was no reason they couldn't act like teammates.

So, rubbing the back of his neck, Kakashi reigned in hard on his ego. "I apologize for what I said on the road," he said, only a little stiffly.

The rigid line of Iruka's shoulders loosened immediately. With a bit more grace, he said, "I also apologize."

At the time, they were camping for the night to eat and rest, and the forest took up their awkward pause, graciously obscuring it with the fitful movement of leaves in the highest branches, and the creaking, quiet movements of wood. It gave them time to find their footing and begin a more natural conversation.

Kakashi reached for solace in a familiar refuge: work. "The Hokage told me that one of the reasons he selected you for this mission was because you speak the coastal dialect. That's an unusual ability for someone from Konoha. How did you learn it?"

"My father always spoke as though he had been born in Konoha, but my mother was a stubborn woman," Iruka answered. A faint trace of humor curved his mouth, though it remained almost rueful, as though the memory was complicated in some way. "She spoke _awa-ben_ with me until she died. Told me that if Konoha found a use for me, it would be because of what made me different and not what was the same."

"I suppose she was right."

"I suppose she was," Iruka conceded. "Though it's been a while since I've used it."

Slouching, Kakashi let out a sudden sigh. "Fishermen," he grumbled.

"The true glamour of the shinobi life," Iruka reflected, chuckling. "Imagine if they told the pre-genin that they will spend their first few years after graduation weeding gardens, and then, even as elite, they might still be asked to serve Konoha by gutting fish."

Kakashi actively grimaced, an expression he knew was evident even through the mask. The sad thing was, it really was true.

* * *

By the time the air turned briny and gained a nasty, cold edge, Iruka and Kakashi had settled into a working relationship. During the times when the mission was being discussed, both of them were immaculately professional. They conferred about the _daimyo_, their destination, their strategy for infiltration. They also spent the trip getting used to one another's _modus operandi_.

Kakashi, for example, learned that Iruka was as unprepossessing as his first impression made him appear…but with a temper that could easily provoke him into becoming something far more interesting. Iruka, on the other hand, learned that beneath the underneath of Konoha's famed copy-nin was a keen but unpredictable sense of humor.

They hardly began to like one another overnight, but after two weeks of steady travel, they were at least comfortable. Or, anyway, no longer sniping at each other's throats.

Having reached their destination, Kakashi finished sealing the last of their shinobi gear into a tree and straightened to take stock of himself. Instead of wearing his usual body suit and armored jacket, he now wore a shirt and vest so coarse that it already prickled mercilessly. His hardy regulation sandals had been replaced with boots sealed against the water. His pants and jacket were also sealed, and they smelled. In fact, everything he wore smelled – like turpentine and salt water and _fish_.

"Makes you think better of your regulation uniform, doesn't it," Iruka commented wryly. He was wearing a veritable patchwork of garments, not a single one of which looked remotely as though it belonged to any other.

"This stuff itches," Kakashi complained, while Iruka nodded.

"Yeah. Konoha really spared no expense, did it?" He swung some of their equipment – their _new_ equipment – onto his shoulder. "Are we ready?"

Kakashi bit into the fleshy part of his thumb to draw a fat bead of blood. "Almost ready," he said, and called on his Contract. There was a brief puff of smoke, and then a small floppy eared dog appeared, sporting a flack jacket and forehead protector.

He looked up at his master through squinting eyes, taking in their unsual garb, and then sat down hard on his rear end. "This is going to be one of those sucky missions, isn't it?" Guruko asked.

Kakashi's visable eye turned up into a smile. "Strip," he commanded, and the little dog groaned.

* * *

"Definitely one of those sucky missions," the ninken confirmed less than an hour later when they found the building that was going to be their home for the next four weeks.

It was set apart from the village by a considerable distance and had its own small wharf which sagged into the water as though it had seen better days. The inside was just as underwhelming. Guruko eyed the cobwebs and fine layer of sandy grit over every surface and gave an overdramatic shiver in the damp air.

"I suppose it's a step up from the forest floor," Iruka said, but he sounded dubious as he lifted a matted clump of hair and bone from the windowsill. "It seems we have a cat."

"No, we do not," Kakashi said firmly. He pointed. "We have a dog."

"I like cats. And there are mice here." The chuunin eyed the droppings meaningfully. There were certainly enough to catch the eye.

"Guruko can manage the rodents."

"I cannot!" the outraged dog protested. " Do I look like pest control to you? I'm a _nindog_."

Iruka pinned his lips together in a determined sort of way. "It's really not so bad. We can clean it up."

Kakashi disagreed. "A hovel is a hovel," he said stubbornly.

"Exactly. And you can't expect it to be what it's not." Iruka was trying to force open the shutters. Unfortunately, they were so rotted that Iruka's hand went straight through, sending fragments falling into the weeds outside.

Crossing to his teammate's side, Kakashi heaved a heavy breath. "I'm going to hate this place, aren't I?"

Iruka was sucking on his palm, which was bleeding. "It won't be so bad," he insisted, and Kakashi felt the urge to pick the man up bodily and throw both him and his stubborn, unwarranted optimism out of the splintered window.

* * *

It was very cold that night.

The planks of the shack were ill fitting, as though the person who built it had merely picked up whatever pieces of wood were at hand and pounded them together by sheer force of will. The result was that the formidable draft off the ocean wheezed through every niche, rattling throughout the creaky house and making it almost impossible for the small, potbellied wood stove to provide anything but the most proximal warmth.

It had taken five minutes of silent stoicism before both shinobi came to a mutual decision to use whatever resources were available to them. Which was how they both ended up on the single, musky smelling mattress, shoulders pressed together while Guruko shivered miserably between them.

"I have to admit," Kakashi muttered after a while. "This is not how I usually imagine going to bed with someone."

Guruko made a kind of low whining sound that was split between incredulity and disgust. "Innuendo, now?"

Iruka made a faint, undignified giggling noise, but it might have just been his teeth chattering together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

* * *

The next step in their infiltration was to breech the community. The village wasn't large, though due to its connection with the _daimyo_, it was fairly cosmopolitan for a coastal backwater. Most trades were represented, and there was a local tavern that Kakashi noted immediately; alcohol always made information gathering easier.

It was there at the tavern that they met the locals for the first time. The rustic group of fishermen greeted them, at first, with reserve. One asked, "You the new lot down by the old dock?" He shook his head, which was shaggy with stubble. "Crappy place to settle, if you ask me."

"It's…drafty," Iruka admitted, and Kakashi had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

However, the deliberate understatement had drawn knowing grins from the small gathering. One of the men even clapped his hand on Iruka's shoulder, saying, "You don't have to lie, boy. Most of us have been in and out of that place in bad weather. Nobody could believe that anyone would be crazy enough to actually settle there."

Then everyone laughed, and the tension of new company began to ease.

"So who are you both?

"Umino Iruka," Iruka said without hesitation, and it was just a little shocking to hear him use his real name.

'_But he's not in the Bingo Book_,' the elite shinobi reminded himself. _'He's not listed anywhere, and Umino is hardly a name that will sound out of place on the coast_.'

So he went with it. "Umino Kakashi," he introduced himself, and felt a flicker of amusement when his partner's shoulders twitched at the moniker.

"Don't know any Umino's." The crowd rumbled agreement, but it wasn't the sound of doubt, just idle speculation. One of the men asked, "You kin by yer daddy or yer mama?"

"Our father," Kakashi said automatically, jumping on the unsolicited opportunity to fill in their back-story.

After that there was a long stream of boring talk about where the good fishing was, the staples they would need and where to find them, as well as a dozen or so introductions. Only one thing stood out about the meeting at all:

"Stay out of Lord Ohidai's way," the village herbalist told them even as she tucked a packet of ginger root into Iruka's hand, casting a knowing look at his ruddy nose. "He can be a harsh man about certain things. You just keep to where you belong, alright?"

Iruka and Kakashi traded looks. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

Kakashi scowled down at the fish, which, it must be said, hardly wore a winning expression itself. It was cold and had some sort of secretion sticking to it that made the creature difficult to hold. In fact, it had already slipped in his grip once, and the pad of his finger was streaked with blood from were a fin had dug in.

He looked into the flat, accusing eye and decided it was the most nefarious enemy he had ever engaged. His only satisfaction was that he had drawn first blood and now fully intended to eviscerate its body and eat its flesh.

"Quit staring at the poor thing like it's going to launch a final attack." Iruka looked up critically from where he was packing small fish in salt for their trip to the market. "Just get on with it or we'll never have dinner."

Kakashi looked dubiously between the fish and the long, thin knife he held, the weight of which was unfamiliar and oddly distributed. He placed the tip on the thing's slimy belly and wondered how deep he should plunge it.

He was just about to commit himself when a hand intercepted him with a sigh, drawing the blade free in the same movement. "Perhaps you better let me," Iruka offered. He gave Kakashi's bleeding thumb a disapproving look. "You can pack the fish, but I'd wrap that before you stick your hand in the salt."

Wise advice. Kakashi wiped off his hands, taking care to completely cover the surprisingly deep cut.

"You might have summoned me some company with that," Guruko complained dourly.

"You'd have plenty of company if you took care of those rats."

"Do I look like I have pointed ears to you?"

"Just for that, no dinner for you."

"What!"

"Useless beasts who don't pull their weight are not fed," Kakashi scolded.

Unfazed, said useless beast went over to Iruka and cuddled shamelessly into his side. "Iruka will feed me," he said of the man, who paused in his work long enough to give Guruko a fond scratch. "Won't you, Iruka?"

The chuunin smiled, "I'd hate to contradict your master."

"Ha!"

Iruka frowned at his captain's triumphant laugh. "But it's not as if you've been much help either, Kakashi. And we don't let you go hungry."

"He won't go hungry. We have a hovel full of stinking rats." He glared rather sullenly at the smelly wares he was putting away for sale. "Besides, I'm carrying my weight in ways other than just keeping up appearances."

Guruko sniffed, obviously unimpressed. "At least Iruka is keeping us from starving to death."

"He does do that," Kakashi admitted, and, seeing an opening, he commented, "Actually, it's rather like having a wife."

Instead of an angry retort, dark brown eyes merely slitted. "What?" their owner asked, deceptively causal, as though he couldn't imagine Kakashi being impolite and was only inquiring because he was sure he had misheard. Guruko was looking tensely between the two humans, much like one would look between a lightning rod and a storm cloud.

Measuring the vicious, dangerous look that he was receiving, Kakashi decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He did, after all, actually want to eat. So he amended, "On second thought, our situation bears no resemblance whatsoever to traditional domestic roles."

"I thought not." Iruka accompanied his words with a rather vicious plunge of his knife, followed by a graceful twist that neatly gutted the fish. Kakashi watched, admiring the firm, precise twist of his wrist. He tried to imagine it with a kunai and wished that their current assignment didn't make it too risky to put the junior shinobi through his paces. It might have been interesting to see what he was truly capable of.

"Where did you learn to do that, anyway?"

Kakashi himself was proficient in fishing as a survival skill, by which it was meant that he could snatch fish out of a stream with his hand or a bit of chakra wire. (Which he had made very clever use of today, if he did say so himself). However, he preferred ration bars in the field, and so it wasn't a skill he regularly used. Nor did 'catching-the-fish-bare-handed no jutsu' seem to have much application on the _ocean_.

In comparison, Iruka seemed much more at home, even if the villagers did still make fun of them about their small catch. Kakashi had tried to play it off like they were selling elsewhere, but Iruka had come right out with the truth and everyone had decided that they were the most incompetent fishermen ever.

* * *

"_It will make us more likable, Kakashi_,_" Iruka had remarked when __t__he__ older shinobi__ grumbl__ed__ darkly about __everyone's apparent amusement__. "Didn't you notice how easy they were with us today__?__"_

"_They laughed at us."_

"_They're relieved we're not much competition, and since they don't feel threatened, they're prepared to feel sorry for us and be generous."_

"_You just like being dotted on," Kakashi accused. "I saw the way that girl had her hand on your arm." It would have been hard to miss, as dark as Iruka's face had gone. That, too, had made the local men laugh._

"_I was cultivating my persona as an inexperienced youth, caught in the shadow of his older brother's charm and good looks. At least, that was the plan before you refused to be charming."_

_There was a certain amount of back story it was prudent to have planned in these kinds of situations – everything from name and age to __place of birth__. The best infiltrators thought their characters through down to the ticks and hang-ups, but Iruka was making it sound more like a story book._

_Which was why Kakashi gave Iruka a wry look and said, __"__Well, p__ardon me for raining on your fantasy."_

"_Don't worry about it," Iruka quipped__,__ waving his hand. "I've decided that you have a dark and brooding past that you cope with by being emotionally unavailable and excessively unsociable. I thought it best to stick with your strengths."_

_In spite of being borderline annoyed, Kakashi was also intrigued. "And you?"_

"_Why, I'm caught up in a semi-codependent relationship with __my__ traumatized but misanthropic sibling. It's tragic, but don't worry. I love you too much to abandon you. It would help if you were a little more committed, though. You could shove me a little, or snap a bit. But not too much. We want you to be depressing, not unlikable."_

"_You're serious."_

_Iruka crossed his eyes. "Absolutely."_

"_What good will this do?"_

"_Well, to begin with," Iruka said. "You'll have every unmarried woman in the village drooling behind your back. One scowl and they'll tell you anything. And the best part is that it won't stretch your acting skills. You just have to be disagreeable."_

_Kakashi felt like scowling now. It didn't sound much different than the situation back in Konoha, and he had never liked simpering females. "I see. And what about my poor beset upon brother?"_

"_I'll scoop up the rest, of course. The kids and the mommies. I'll also get to trail the younger men, since I'm not a threat to their masculinity or their field of play." He was obviously referring to both the women and the fish. "Together we'll be the most well liked dolts in town."_

_There was a sense of the surreal surrounding Iruka as he disassembled the __minds__ and motivations of the village people. His tone was light, even facetious, but Kakashi could find nothing faulty in his reasoning. The cover story was sound._

"_Okay," he agreed._

_Iruka cocked an eyebrow, apparently not expecting such a matter-of-fact response. "Just _'okay'_?"_

_Kakashi was ready to engage in some mockery of his own. "I don't mind playing the ruggedly handsome senior bullying his weak-hearted tag-along. I almost feel practiced."_

"_Hm. Is that so? Well, I hate to tell you this, but you're not 'ruggedly handsome.' If you didn't bathe for a while, you might be able to pull off an elegant sort of swarthy. But really, you're more…__well, _fair_."_

_Fair? What the hell did that mean?_

"_I suppose I could do worse," Kakashi decided, his tone very pointed._

_As expected, Iruka took the bait. Annoyed already, he clipped out, "Oh?"_

"_I could be comely."_

"_WHAT?"_

* * *

Kakashi fell back into the present to watch Iruka finish deboning their supper. "I often went fishing with my father as a boy," Iruka answered the question Kakashi had asked about his experience. "In theory, preparing these aren't so different."

"You say, 'in theory' because…"

"I haven't seen the ocean since I was four-years-old. I'm making this stuff up as I go. It's a good thing you're a genius; that trick with the chakra wire…" Iruka shook his head admiringly.

"I still prefer my night job."

"You hitting the tavern again tonight?"

"Maybe. What about you?"

"I'm teaching, actually," the younger man admitted, a touch bashfully. "Some of the adults are illiterate. They saw me playing a word game with the children and asked if I would help. And since at least two of them work in the manor…"

Kakashi nodded. It was a good opportunity. Still, he warned, "Watch yourself."

"Hai, Taicho."

* * *

"You drool," Kakashi said one night.

Iruka did not even turn over, instead burying his face more firmly in the pillow they shared. "You live with a pack of dogs," he muttered. "I know you're used to it."

* * *

One evening, Kakashi came home to Iruka mending clothes. His jacket had been torn, and without immediate care, it was likely to fall apart.

"I'm just not sure this is salvageable," Iruka muttered, turning over the harshly used material. It was one of their oiled ones, which were easily the most valuable items they owned. Without them, the damp went right through to the skin.

Kakashi grunted to show he heard. He was actually in a decent mood; it had been another tavern night for him, and though he had been as careful as always, the alcohol left him feeling warm for once. He could almost ignore the rattle of the wind.

"Maybe a lead today. The other men are complaining Ohidai is tightening up restrictions on the most distant fishing lanes. Apparently, one of the boats went out too far yesterday and a patrol towed them all the way back to dock and confiscated their catch. Said next time someone was caught over the line, there'd be a public flogging."

Iruka's brow furrowed as he considered the information. The material he was tending was still bunched in his hands. "That's a very defensive escalation. I've never heard anything about patrol boats before."

"Yeah," the jounin agreed, his gaze straying to the bolted shutters, through which he could see peeks of the rolling sea. "They talked as though they've never known him to be so unyielding about it. There's something going on out there he doesn't want anyone to see." He went over to the stove to examine what had been left for him. There were a few dried strips of – surprise, surprise – fish. "How was your day?"

The younger man hummed, having taken up his task again. "I might be able to get into the manor next week if we can get our hands on some crab. They're not in season here, but apparently Ohidai loves them."

Kakashi looked over at his hound, who was curled up lazily in front of the stove, his head resting on Iruka's foot. "You up for a bit of fetch?"

Guroko growled sleepily. "That had better be a metaphor."

There was a simmering sound coming from a kettle and Kakashi lifted it carefully. "This done?"

Iruka spared a glance at the thick steam. "Should be. Toss another piece of wood on the stove?"

Kakashi did so without comment, pouring boiling water over a bed of coffee. He offered a mug to Iruka who took the hot tin with gratitude. They spent the rest of the evening in the companionable quiet of a warm stove and intermittent conversation.

* * *

"_Get your hand off that persimmon. I just sliced it."_

"_What?"_

"_Kakashi –"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Kakashi, so help me, I said –"_

"_Mmnom."_

"_KAKASHI."_

"Your people are kind of violent, aren't they?" The visiting cur had raised his head, ear cocked toward the shack where a very distinct crashing sound could be heard, followed by more furious scolding.

Guruko did not bother to open his eyes, too busy lolling in a rare interval of sunshine. "This is actually pretty mild for them. But I guess you can't choose your family, can you?" He smirked as he said it, one incisor sticking out.

The irony went completely over the other canine's head. "Ah, littermates, are they? I'd never have guessed from looking. Though –" He paused, wincing as there was a particularly loud crunch of something breaking. "Now that you mention it, it seems obvious."

* * *

It was strange slicing through something without a kunai. Kakashi held onto the slippery tubers carefully, peeling off the excess skin. Beside him, Iruka was dressing an impressively large catch of the day, humming to himself absently and utterly off tune.

At his feet, Guruko lolled heavily against his leg, tongue flopped out as he looked up adoringly into Iruka's face. "Ruuuka," he made a pitiful sound, pawing at the man's thigh. The chuunin smiled and flipped him a bit of fish.

"You're spoiling him," Kakashi grumbled.

"You're just jealous because he loves me more," Iruka retorted.

* * *

The village herbalist was a friendly sort. She had developed a soft spot for Iruka and frequently stopped him whenever he drifted through the market to foist some more of her cold remedy on him. As he'd been plagued with a dripping nose since they'd arrived, he was usually grateful. The woman also often had some useful tidbit of information he could take back to his captain.

Today it was about the forbidden fishing routes again. "Ain't right," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Those lines aren't nearly far enough out for him to kick up such a fuss. My man's brought back only half as big a haul lately."

Another lady, a young mother with a baby on her hip, patted Iruka's arm. "Are you and that handsome brother of yours having a hard time too?"

Iruka flashed a self-depreciating grimace. "You mean more than usual? Sometimes it's a wonder we eat, much less bring anything in." And, seeing that he had their sympathy, he dropped his voice an octave and shared quietly, "It's not what we expected when we came here. Kakashi and I aren't much good at shallow-water fishing."

The mother rocked as her infant fussed, giving him a knowing look, but she sounded troubled when she said, "I hope you two won't think about leaving right in the middle of winter. I know that house of yours isn't in good condition, but come spring we'll all help you get it back in shape."

Her honest sentiment touched Iruka, who felt a twinge of conscious, and he wished he didn't have to use a ruse with such good-hearted people. At the very least, he was glad that all indications pointed to the local people having nothing to do with their _daimyo_'s scheming.

So he grinned at the women and told them that the two brothers had no plans to leave at the moment, and then headed out of town, stopping only to purchase a rare treat. However, as he was turning to be on his way, he almost ran straight into a little boy.

"Whoa!" Iruka said, chuckling as he lost his balance and just barely sidestepped the child. "I need to watch were I'm going, eh? I keep running into people recently."

The child blinked at him, tongue poking out. Iruka caught his eyes on the powdered white mochi balls in his hand and immediately offered one. The youngster snatched it up, shyness evaporating, and flashed Iruka a partially toothless smile.

For some reason, his face stayed with Iruka for a long time afterwards.

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" Kakashi asked later that night as they lay in bed. He was curled on his side, Guruko under his chin like a furry hot water bottle. Iruka lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and shivering. He wasn't sure he could describe his feeling of melancholy or explain why a child had caused it.

"Did you ever wonder if you were meant to be doing something else?" he finally asked.

There was a long, pregnant moment of silence, and then the mattress dipped with a creak, rolling Iruka nearer his companions. His fingers sunk into warm fur. "Go to sleep," Kakashi said. "You're waking up the damn bed bugs."

Obediently, he buried his face in Guruko's back. The other man shifted, causing their hands to slide together as they settled, and Iruka closed his eyes on the feeling of discontent. After all, it was hard to feel lonely when others were so very close.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

* * *

Kakashi was an exceptionally skilled shinobi, and Iruka had formidable abilities within his areas of expertise. What they were not, however, was experienced sailors, and no amount of stealth or charm could fool the ocean.

When they woke up that morning, the sky was steel gray. A gusty wind was blowing off the water, throwing up a heavy spray and leaving their boat rocking at harbor. Kakashi had taken one look at the reels of fast moving clouds and considered calling off their foray.

Howver, today they had intended their first breech into the forbidden fishing lane and both were reluctant to put it off. Already, they had been here for three weeks and both were growing weary – of the food, the weather, and the strain of unfamiliar work. Which is why they ultimately pulled on their gear, untied their craft, and steered into the unknowable danger of the tempest sea.

It was a mistake.

Before midday, they had lost all ability to steer. The sails ripped from their hands, twisting and tearing under the onslaught of the rising wind. Daylight was shuttered out, and the water peeked, folded, and flooded them, filling up the space around their ankles. Iruka and Kakashi fought for their lives under a torrent of blinding rain like sheeted ice. But they didn't have the experience. Their vessel was too small.

And in the end, all they could do was hold on.

* * *

They woke up in the drifting ocean, wedged tightly together in the stern of their boat. Kakashi's eyes were heavy when he stained to open them, and he blinked several times before he realized that the eternal stretch of gray all around him was actually a meeting of the sky and sea.

Pale bangs hung before his eyes like wet streamers as he shakily drew himself up and looked down at his trembling hands, so cold he could hardly feel them. All he wanted to do was sink back down into the tight, damp hollow of body heat he had just vacated, but as the wind cut through him, he realized they were still in danger.

"Iruka," Kakashi said, or tried to; his voice was so hoarse that he had to cough and try again. He reached out to jostle his subordinate. "Iruka."

Iruka had not awoken. Instead, he shivered fitfully, face hidden under a curled forearm. It took another shake to bring him back to consciousness, and even then he didn't look well. The rims of his eyelids were a livid red from the salt water, and they blinked so slowly that Kakashi instinctively reached out to check his head for injuries. He found nothing.

Together, they fought for the shore, forced to take up the oars. It was a long, difficult effort, and when they finally reached their sad little wharf, Iruka was listing, his eyes half shut. Kakashi had to help him out of the boat.

Inside, they were met by a near-hysterical Guruko. He pawed and fretted and whined, finally burying his head in Iruka's lap when Kakashi propped the man up against their bed. Flinging aside his oiled overcoat, he went immediately to the stove, though his fingers were almost too numb to work the latch.

"Boss." Guruko's voice was a low growl of fear. "Boss, he looks bad. He's shaking –"

With a near groan of effort, Kakashi turned away from the slowly maturing blaze and returned to his hunched partner. "Iruka," he said, reaching out. "Come over by the grate."

The man almost convulsed when Kakashi's fingers came into contact with his skin, his shuddering becoming so pronounced that Kakashi was alarmed. Iruka was ice cold and drenched to the bone…and it was only then that Kakashi noticed Iruka's dingy brown cloak was black with water. He touched it, felt how saturated it was, and almost saw red with sudden rage. "You idiot! Why aren't you wearing your oiled cloak?"

Iruka was shivering helplessly, almost too much to respond, but before he lapsed into a fit of coughing, he managed to rasp, "I couldn't fix mine."

Kakashi didn't have the energy to hold onto his anger, any more than Iruka was capable of understanding it. Instead, his brilliant mind began churning calculations: the time spent in the bottom of that leaking boat, the exertion of fighting the storm, the temperature, the rain. Iruka's dark hair was still dripping down his neck, which was paler than he had ever seen it. It didn't take a genius to understand; Iruka was dangerously hypothermic.

"Boss…" Guroko whined.

He did not need to be told. Kakashi had already hauled Iruka's unresisting body nearer the small circumference of heat and began to strip off his sodden clothing. He could feel the man shuddering beneath his hands, dazed eyes glancing off everything without seeing them. Once, he reached stiffly for his hair.

"Let me," Kakashi said, wringing it out and shoving his partner nearer the stove while he went to get dry clothes for both of them. Iruka was coughing harshly when he returned, wet sounding coughs that bent him in half. Even in the warmest clothing they owned and tucked under their thickest blanket, he still he shook as though he would come apart at any moment.

"Kakashi," Iruka said around chattering teeth. Kakashi heard the plea and crawled into bed beside him. He was rewarded by a small, shuddering sigh of relief, but it was already far too hot against his shoulder.

* * *

All night long, Kakashi switched between fighting Iruka's growing fever and managing the intermittent chill. He forced him small sips of water, tended the fire, and pulled up the coarse blankets which quickly became twisted around Iruka's restless limbs.

By morning, he knew he needed help. Iruka had stopped thrashing sometime in the early morning and laid still, but the fever had not broken and the wheezing in his chest sounded very weak. He left Guruko beside him, muzzle propped against Iruka's stomach, and headed into the village.

The herbalist frowned deeply when she heard. "You were out in that storm all night? Why? There's nothing to catch when the sea's that rough."

"We couldn't get back in," Kakashi answered honestly. Weariness made his voice husky, and he was squinting against a headache that pounded against the back of his eyes. The woman took one look at him and added chamomile to the package she was wrapping. "It's tea," she explained. "He'll need to take it as hot as he can stand and as much as he can drink. If you need more, you should send that mutt of yours. I've seen him fetch things before."

"He's a smart dog," Kakashi murmured by way of explanation.

"Then it's better you don't leave your brother again today unless the fever breaks. Besides, you look as though lying down would be the best for you, too."

Kakashi nodded. He was too tired to do anything else; even his lingering anger at Iruka for not telling him about the ruined jacket was cottoned under the lethargy he felt. "Thank you," he said, just remembered his manners as he pushed away from the counter and straightened carefully.

The woman listened to the sound of his bones creaking, took in the lines on his face – of worry and exhaustion – and her expression softened. "It's good to know that I've been judging you too harshly. Take care of yourself and him, too, you hear?"

Once again, a nod was the only thing that Kakashi could muster. He turned slowly and made his way out of the village and back to their dismal hut.

* * *

"We're running out of time," Kakashi said several days later, even as he packed a bag of equipment and checked his cloak for tears. His teammate was frowning at his back, the air between them thick with disapproval.

Iruka was sitting up in bed, but not very steadily. Already, his lidded eyes were slipping, though he was fighting hard to remain awake. "This is a bad idea," he said hoarsely, shaking his head. "You shouldn't go out there alone, especially not to investigate the fishing lanes."

"It's what we need to do to finish this mission. You were the one to intercept that message at the manor. It has to be done now, and you're not strong enough."

Only seconds later, he realized how that must have sounded and turned to rephrase, but Iruka had already ducked his head, expression hidden. Sighing, Kakashi abandoned his gear and went to the bedside.

"Iruka," he said. "I would be a poor commander if I allowed an obviously sick teammate join me on such a risky venture. Not when it won't affect our chances of success."

"Suppose you have to outrun a patrol," the other challenged. "Or the weather turns bad again. You won't be able to maneuver the boat as well on your own."

Kakashi looked at Iruka and attempted to see the obnoxious, insolent burden he thought he would be stuck with during this mission. Instead, all he could see was his comrade, the man he had spent the last month eating and sleeping and surviving beside. The man who now sat, barely upright, pale and still slightly fevered. Still prone to fits of coughing. Still with a wheeze on his breath.

"No," he decided with finality, though not without some regret. "I'll just have to manage without you.

* * *

Kakashi successfully maneuvered into the northern sea where Ohidai's people were not permitted to go. The ocean was reasonably still that day, but there was a kind of low-hanging fog that reduced visibility. Kakashi seized the advantage it gave him, steering silent and unseen with his senses thrown wide. He shifted through the water patiently. Looking, waiting, searching. Until finally…

_There_.

Drawing a glass, Kakashi observed a brief rendezvous, two ships coming together in the middle of the miasma. After a few moments, a smug, satisfied smile crept onto his face. He recognized both ships, without a shadow of a doubt. One he saw almost every day, tied to the large, neat port outside the manor. As for the other, well; there really was no mistaking the foreign cut of those sails.

He was already steering around, ready to head back toward the shore, when he was suddenly brought up short by a shadow shifting out of the white mist. He banked hard, working the rudder to avoid a collision even as he angled to get away, but the patrol boat had already spotted him.

As the much more powerful craft pulled along side, Kakashi looked up and realized that he had only one option short of completely dissolving their cover. It was hard to keep his body loose and empty of aggression, but he managed. _'I am a civilian_,' he reminded himself. Still, it was not easy, and the swarthy, dark-eyed faces that peered at him from a position of power did nothing to make it easier.

"You were warned," they said, and Kakashi felt something in his stomach sink.

* * *

A crowd began to gather when they brought Kakashi ashore. It was near the end of the workday and the other fishers were just pulling in. When they saw the patrolmen hauling one of their own out of a boat, they went to join their wide-eyed wives, their frightened children, and listened to what the _daiymo_'s men said:

"Lord Ohidai gave you all a warning about what would happen if you didn't stay out of those waters. Now we'll have to make an example that you won't be able to ignore."

Kakashi was put on his knees. His arms had been bound in an uncomfortable knot above his head. He could feel how exposed his back was, remembered what he'd heard them say that night at the tavern.

_Public flogging_.

'_I'm a shinobi,'_ he thought stubbornly and with some contempt. He wrapped that feeling around him like a protective barrier, mentally preparing for the inevitable. _'Let them do their worst.'_

The thought had barely passed through is mind when the crowd made their first noise, a kind of inward drawn breath, a stricken protest. Kakashi raised his head to see if the whip had come out, but what he saw instead tore something loose inside him and made his sullen, stoic heart grind with dread.

Iruka.

He was sagging between two men as they dragged him from the narrow, winding lane that lead from their shack. He was flushed, his expression disoriented. Barefoot. No jacket. Had they hauled him out of bed that way, the bastards?

"No," a female voice pleaded. The herbalist, Kakashi categorized as though from great distance. "He's sick! He wasn't even out there today!"

"They're partners, aren't they," came the remorseless answer as Iruka was shoved down beside his 'brother' and his limp hands were pulled up. There was no resistance; Iruka had started coughing the moment his knees hit the ground, and for a long time all he could do was gasp for air.

Ignoring the grit baring into his knees, the fitful, drizzling mist that was just starting up, Kakashi spoke in a voice pitched too low for anyone but the man beside him to hear. "Can you?" he asked.

Iruka drew a congested breath. "I'm strong enough," was all he said.

Then they both put their heads down and waited for the sound of the lash.

* * *

"So," Iruka said later as they lay stretched carefully on their sides on the narrow, moldy mattress. "Do you think we've established that Ohidai has something to hide?"

The answer was muffled by the way Kakashi's face was buried in the mattress, but the message was nonetheless easily understandable: "Damn straight."

"And the villagers?"

"I'm willing to report a more than reasonable certainty they would support a change in power."

Grimacing as he shifted, Iruka commented, "They did seem fairly concerned."

"When you started crying, I thought they were going to revolt right there and throw those men straight into the sea."

For a moment, a flush crowded out even the discomfort from Iruka's face. "You know that was the point," he said.

Kakashi nodded stiffly, a movement which set the entire long length of his back twinging. He grunted; everything hurt. "So, reasonable certainty exists that the _daimyo_ is mucking around with Mist, and the villagers are little fish in a much bigger game."

"Agreed."

Gritted, chattering teeth filled the silence as they drew closer still, shoulders curling inward. The wind outside still whistled in the planks of the shack. The boards of their shelter creaked. In its belly of metal, the fire flickered so dim as to almost be out, but it was painful to pull up the blanket.

"Gods, this has been a sucky mission," Kakashi moaned after awhile.

Guruko huffed from somewhere near their feet. "Called it."

* * *

"This is very good, Kakashi," the Sandaime commented later. He had the details of their report spread before him, and was looking over it with a careful eye. It was obvious he was pleased. "With your statement and the additional intelligence you and Iruka have gathered, I can take action now without scruple."

Kakashi ducked his head, noting the sensation of burning that still persisted when he did so.

"I'm pleased the common people weren't involved," the old man went on. "That would not have been pleasant."

"They're a relatively good sort,' Kakashi said honestly. He remembered their sadness when the two brothers had, understandably, decided to move away once they had healed enough to travel. He added, "For fishermen, anyway."

A knowing smile filled the creases of the weathered face. "Ah. And what did you think of the profession, Kakashi? I expect it had its moments of difficulty."

Kakashi simply looked at his leader for a long moment; there were some things for which even the dourest expressions were just not adequate. The Sandaime gave a throaty chuckle nonetheless, waving his hand in a dismissal.

"Just go home and rest. You have my word that there will be at least two weeks before you're asked to leave the village again. Well done."

The jounin was almost out the door when the Sandaime called, "Oh, and Kakashi."

He turned. "Yes?"

"I'm curious what you came to think of Iruka."

There was a long, considering pause during which Kakashi thought of gutted fish, cold nights, sewing needles, bedbugs, fevers, and a storm on the ocean. Somehow it all became tangled until the words fell out of his mouth, "He's something like the sea. Unpredictable and brackish and, at the same time, striking."

The Hokage gave a small, sly smile. "Kakashi," he said, "I didn't know you were capable of poetry."

The younger shinobi just grunted, slipping out of the office. Pakkun was waiting for him on the other side, his compressed face more crumpled than usual. "Guruko says to tell you that Iruka's doing better. He wants to know if you're coming over to visit now."

"Maa," Kakashi said with an exaggerated, withering sigh. "I always end up at the hospital at the end of team missions."

Two great brown eyes whirled, exasperated. "Well, it's no wonder, is it?" the pug said. "They have to spend so much time with you."

* * *

Notes:

[1] Kotatsu – A low table frame covered by a heavy blanket, upon which a table top sits. Underneath is a heater, often built into the table itself.

[2] Ooya-san – Literally, _landlord_ or _landlady_.

[3] Awa-ben – An actual dialect on the northeastern coast of Shikoku, Japan. "Awa" means foam, whereas "ben" indicates that it is a dialect.

[4] Ginger root – As used by the Chinese, for congestion and sinus pain among other things. Taken brewed as tea.

[5] Mochi balls – Actually, Iruka is eating _daifuku mochi_ – sticky balls of mashed rice filled with _anko_, or sweet bean paste – which are basically God's gift to mankind.


End file.
